After the End
by GillyHalliwell
Summary: There are betrayals in war that are childlike compared to our human betrayals during peace" -Michael Ondaatje. The intense bond that Harry and Hermione share brings them closer together, when they least expect it... Long after the end.
1. Runaways

_**After The End**_

"_And so it is_

_Just like you said it would be_

_Life goes easy on me_

_Most of the time_

_And so it is_

_The shorter story_

_No love, no glory_

_No hero in her sky_

_I can't take my eyes off of you"_

_~Damien Rice_

They had all gotten their happy ending. They sure as hell had.

They were One Big Happy Weasley Family.

But Harry used to laugh at that.

Every single time, as he walked ceremoniously to one of their meetings, he would laugh at that statement. Sometimes, he merely chuckled under his breath when he thought about it… most of the time; he would laugh it off with his actions. And, Merlin! Did he enjoy it!

There were times when he pitied Ginny. When he felt actual sorrow at the thought that he was making his wife go through this, even if his wife was unaware of it all. But all thoughts of sorrow, and all thoughts of Ginny, completely evaporated when he met her.

And today, it was one of the days in which he smiled broadly, and chuckled under his breath as he walked. Harry wasn't actually sure where he had picked up the habit of walking whenever he went to meet her, but it was comforting to think that he could always walk to her. As it was comforting to know that the sun would come out, no matter how dark the night turned; it was comfortable to know that he could walk to her, in spite of apparition, or brooms or floo powder.

His smile widened as he turned around a corner and saw her. She was sitting on a bench, in the exact spot she said she'd be. She had a heavy burgundy coat, and a knitted scarf of a dark wine colour, wrapped around her neck. Her hair was tied up on a loose bun, and few strands of her curly hair were framing the side of her face that was visible to him.

She was wearing a pair of black trousers, and she had her gloved hands on top of her knees. Her back was held straight against the bench, and her purse was sitting next to her. She was holding a black plastic bag in her hands, and her eyes alternated between looking at the bag and staring straight ahead. She was looking at the bag as he approached her. She must have known he was there, but she surely wanted to hear what his entrance was going to be about.

"Hello stranger!" he said in an amused voice. He had just set the tone of the talking that was to come.

She turned her head to look at him, and without further thought, gave him a broad smile, her eyes sparkling in the cold. She took her purse in her hands and moved to her right, making him a spot to sit in.

He smiled back at her, fighting back the desperate need he had to hug her and snog her senseless right there in the street.

As he sat, however, she returned to staring straight ahead. Harry imitated her, understanding what she was asking him to do.

"And so it is" she whispered slowly, seconds after Harry started to look ahead too.

He nodded. She wasn't staring directly at him, but he knew she could see him nodding.

"Indeed," he whispered back. He smiled a bitter smile before he went on. "The many amusements of their work, have taken our heroes to the city of the unknown where everything can happen if you have a computer and a blue screen!"

She laughed. Her laughter filled some of the emptiness that Harry had been holding inside his chest since he last parted with her. In spite of the cold, Harry started to feel warm.

"Otherwise known as L.A.," she said, the laughter vibrating through her words.

He nodded, laughing quietly as if not to interrupt the sound of her laughter.

"l.A. it is!" he said. He turned t look at her. Her image was breathtaking. For a moment, Harry wondered how could he have been so blind… how could he not noticed it before!

He was so stupidly in love with her that he simply couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before. She was everything to him, she was the reason he woke up in the morning and the reason he walked and ate and breathed. In spite of his wife, she was his everything! And, true, sometimes he felt bad about doing it. He felt bad about feeling it. But he knew it could not be helped. He was in love with her. And, as much as he cared about Ginny, he knew Ginny could very well sod when the time came to be with her only.

Harry was used to have these moments. He had been dealing with them since they first started to see each other. At first, they were filled with angst and guilt. He had been unfaithful to his wife, and to the promise that he had made to her. He had broken a vow that he had swore to Ginny in front of many people, and one, that he thought, he meant to keep.

He felt miserable. He felt disgusting, and he became a traitor. He had not just began the road to finish off his marriage, he had also started to walk a road in which, when the time came, he'll be walking without his best friend.

Harry was the very thing he wanted to end with. He had become the hurt of the people he loved.

At first, what seemed worst were the holes and the emptiness. He was in love with her, but he had a wife, and if he was in love with a woman who wasn't his wife, where did that leave his wife? He had tormented himself several nights straight going over and over around the same thought. Wondering, if he had ever loved her. He wanted to think he had, but how could he have loved Ginny, if he had always been in love with her?

He went, again and again, at it. Repeating himself he was the world's biggest jerk. He couldn't possibly be unfaithful to his wife, betray his best friend, and love someone else's wife, all at the same time. And, during those sleepless nights, Harry thought he would never be able to live with himself again.

But then he met her. Then he would kiss her and touch her and they would go places that neither one of them knew with their spouses. And one night, Harry stopped wondering. He stopped feeling the guilt, and the sorrow and the shame. He had realised that there was no way back.

He felt bad for Ginny. And he surely didn't want her to suffer. But he had realised that there was nothing he could do. Because the more time he was with her, the more time he spent loving her, the less he wanted to be with Ginny. And sadly, and though he couldn't bear to think that there will come a day when he'll have to face her and say it, he realised he had never loved Ginny.

And now Harry didn't wonder anymore if he had ever loved Ginny, or if he was a traitor, or if he deserved hell for what he was doing. He wondered how come he had been so blind that he had not seen the monkey dancing in his kitchen table. He wondered how he hadn't understood before, that he was blindly, brainless, extraordinarily in love with Hermione.

He sighed. He somehow loved having these moments. It made him aware of how much they were achieving, even if what they were doing was called cheating. They were being themselves. And by being themselves, Harry knew, that it didn't matter how much of a cheating it could be called, they were finally being true to themselves!

"Have you been waiting for long?" he asked her.

"No, I haven't," she said slowly turning around to look at him. Her face brightened up once again with that smile that Harry knew had always been his. And again, he wondered how he hadn't realised it before.

"Actually," she said, snapping Harry back to earth. "I just sat here, I was buying Ron this," she said, showing him the plastic bag.

"What is it?" he asked her, grabbing the bag from her.

"A movie," she answered, her stare fixed in his face.

Harry chuckled as he took out the DVD that was inside the bag. But he laughed out loud when he read the title.

"The Sound of Music?" he asked through the laughter. She was laughing too.

"I know," she answered. "I felt strange when I asked the retailer for it,"

"Why does Ron want 'The Sound of Music'?" he asked amused.

"I don't know," she said shrugging. "I can't even explain why he watches T.V. so much!"

"I know," Harry said. The laughter still lingered in his voice as he returned the movie to the bag. "Same with Ginny, she loves to watch the thing. I swear she watches more than I do!"

"Ron does too," she said thoughtful. The she seemed to break out of her reverie. "Would you believe that he owled me from Australia this morning so I would get this for him?"

"Did not!"

"Did too!" She answered laughing. "I nearly killed him!" She sighed before continuing. "I think he never listens to me… I told him we were passing as muggles on this one!"

Harry reached out and took her gloved hand in his. He squeezed it, softly, only so that she'd feel his meaning.

"It's not that it bothers me, Harry, it doesn't," she said. Harry always felt a strange warmth inside when she spoke his name with an emphasis. She had just done so, and he could feel the strange burning inside of him. "It's just that he was about a second from blowing up our mission… and think about it, what if he had done? We would have gone back to London!"

"I know," he whispered reassuringly. "And we would have missed our Hollywood vacations,"

"Well, technically, it's not "

"I know it's not vacations!" he interrupted her with a smile. Trust Hermione to get technical. "But when it comes to you and me… we're never working, Hermione, we're living!"

She smiled at him. He read her smile and smiled back. She understood what he meant. And that was it.

A few moments of silence went by, they were simply staring at each other. The Harry bent over and kissed her cheek. It was warm against the cold. He retreated and touched the back of his hand against her cheek, stroking softly.

"Is the hotel too far away from here?" he asked in a whisper.

"No," she said, shaking her head ever so slightly. "Just a couple of blocks, want to walk?"

"Sure,"

She smiled and got up, taking his hand in hers, and dragging him up with her. She started to walk with his hand wrapped around hers. Through their gloves, he could feel the slight fidgeting of her fingers as they repeated the motion that she started whenever they held hands.

"Did Ginny leave this morning?" she asked as they walked on the same direction Harry had been walking through.

"Yeah," he answered. "I left later, because I spent a huge bunch of time trying to make my bag,"

"As usual," she said with a playful smile as they came to a corner and waited for the light to stop the cars and allow them to cross. "To the other side, Harry, this is The United States," she said as Harry turned to look right instead of left.

"Right," he mumbled. Thank Merlin for Hermione, he thought. "Anyway, Ron, as usual, came with his old boring talk about -"

"Taking care of me?" she asked as they crossed the street, a smile playing in her voice. "Making you swear you won't get me killed and all that jazz?"

"Pretty much, yeah!"

She looked at him as they reached the other side of the street. She stood motionless for a moment, and then broke into laughter. Harry joined her, unable to contain himself.

"Well, we'll just do the usual," she said, as they reassumed their walk. "We won't tell Ron just how much care you take of me, would we?"

"As always, yours are the best ideas," he said, kissing her hand in a silly manner. "However, I hope we get back before they do, you know I hate dropping you home without a proper goodbye."

"I know," she said, she hated it too. "We'll work around it, and, if we can't, we can always come up with something to miss the games, can't we?"

"Or we could just let them think we're working," he said.

She stood silent for a few steps, and it wasn't until she pulled his arm so they'd turn a corner that he asked her what was going through her mind.

"I was just thinking… that it's… I don't mind to say we're working, I discovered I love my job!"

Harry knew she wasn't done, so, instead of replying, he asked again.

"How so?"

She stopped walking. She turned to look at Harry and her look brightened up as she woke up from her daydream state.

"Well, I'm always with you," she said, shrugging slightly. "What's there not to love?"

"And we're really not paying for this!" Harry exclaimed, when he entered the suite the second time.

He had gotten in with Hermione, who had checked in the night before. But before Harry attempted any unpacking, Hermione had dragged him out of the hotel, telling him that they had to go out and get dinner.

"Why can't I unpack?" Harry protested as she closed the door behind them.

"Because you'll take ages, Harry!" she said amused, grabbing his hand and starting to walk down the corridor. "I'll do it for you when we get back, I promise,"

"Alright then," he said, a smile playing in his lips. He leaned into her and kissed her temple soundly, squeezing her hand.

Holding her hand in a place like that, where they had nothing to worry about. Where the shadows of guilt could not reach them, gave Harry the strength to keep up when they got back. He lived out of these little sabbaticals that they took from London.

It had been during this time, that Harry realised that, certainly, someone up there must care for him. For every time he felt like he couldn't take it anymore, like he was drowning in his façade, a small trip out of town would show up, and they'd escape London in a frenzy to be themselves for a few days, without the tormenting hunting that their other selves did as they breathed down their necks.

And when it wasn't them travelling, then they would be left alone. Ginny and Ron would leave for several days to attend Quidditch matches on other places of the United Kingdom, and, when they got lucky, on other countries.

And life wasn't what he had once thought it would be after Voldemort had been defeated, but at least helped them steal certain moments of happiness to fill the holes that their One Big Happy Weasley Family kept digging into them.

Harry sighed, savouring the moment of happiness that they were having right there, walking down the corridor of the hotel's third floor. He looked at Hermione, who was walking with her stare on her shoes. Harry smiled. He knew that she was savouring the same moment, in the same fashion he had done. She didn't say so, but he knew. And she knew that he knew… and that was precisely what made the moments a reality to look forward to.

"Where do you suggest we have dinner then?" he asked, interrupting her reverie as they waited for the lift. She looked up at him; the sparkle of a memory that had just been locked was lingering in her eyes.

"I just got here last night," she said, pretending surprise. "What makes you think I can already suggest a place for us to dine?

Harry laughed softly at that. He loved this woman! He truly did! And he loved to know her in the way he did, too.

"You're my Hermione," he said, bringing her hand to his lips ceremoniously. He kissed the back of her hand, allowing his lips to linger against her skin. He released her hand slowly, and stepped back.

"And I'm sure you already ate a couple of books about the place," he said with a slight smug.

Hermione fought to contain a smile, then grabbed his hand again and stepped into the lift. By the time she pressed the number one, she had lost the battle against the smile. Harry waited, without saying anything. A young couple, around their age, got into the lift in the second floor. Harry remained quiet.

As the lift stopped on the lobby, the young couple stepped out before Harry and Hermione. And just as Hermione attempted to follow them, Harry pulled her back and she stared at him with her eyes widening.

"So?" he asked.

"So what?" she asked, a perceptible puzzle ness in her stare.

"Did you or not?"

She breathed a laugh between her teeth and gave him a reproachful look, like the one that adults reserve for toddlers when they're being annoying.

She looked away; the smile had won the war within her as she turned her look back to Harry.

"Just one," she said still resisting to the smiling. "And I believe we should go to the Ivy" she said resolutely.

Harry kissed her lips soundly in a quick kiss that had an intended meaning. The kind that served as communication for them, even when no words were included.

He retreated and he was greeted by a wide smile. Hermione chuckled, shaking her head slightly.

"And a leaflet I found at the lobby,"

Harry grinned at her and pulled her out of the lift, just in time for the doors to close behind them.

And now, an hour and a half later, after getting lost around a couple of corners; and carrying the dinner they had chosen to take to the room with them, they stepped once again into the room.

It was a large room, composed in three different smaller rooms. There was a small living room, with a large sofa on the right side, and a small wooden table with two chairs on its left side. Opposite to the door was a mini bar, with a small freezer and a shelf filled with several different kinds of glasses.

Through the right, on the end of the wall against which the sofa leaned, the space in which a door would fit, was empty, leading into the bedroom. Inside, a large bed, also made of wood, materialised into the main feature of the room. At the end of the room, a pair of glass doors led to a balcony, in which a small, round breakfast table was. In front of the bed, a plasma TV was inserted into the wall.

And where that wall met the other wall, a door led into the bathroom. The bathroom was a room almost as large as the bedroom, in which a Jacuzzi filled half the space. The wall, against which the Jacuzzi leaned, was made of glass, showing off a spectacular view of the Hollywood valley.

"I told you I love my job," Said Hermione as an answer to his statement. "Think about it," she said. "We're always together, we go out of the country to know fancy places, where we never drop a penny, and we get paid for it!"

"I'd do it for free," Harry said, turning to her. She was setting the dinner they had gotten from the Ivy in the table for them. "Where this job has taken us is a priceless place for me."

She smiled at him from the table. Harry walked to her and they sat in chairs across from each other.

"So," Harry said as they tucked into their dinner. "Brief me, what are we doing here?"

"As a matter of fact," she said smiling, as Harry poured wine in her glass. "We're on holiday!"

"Holiday?" Harry said, stunned. "You said-"

"Well, not technically a holiday, thanks," she said as he passed her the glass. "You see, we're here to recognise the place,"

"You mean like –"

"Like we don't have to do the actual work," she interrupted. "Exactly!"

"Excellent!" Harry grinned. "So, we get to know Hollywood and then the Ministry sends Aurors to do the dirty work!"

"Pretty much,"

"I love you!" Harry said, leaning in the table to speak closer to her face. "I love this town. I love this job. I love you!"

Hermione laughed. Harry's face was only a few inches from hers. Harry felt the anticipation build up inside of him. He felt the odd tickling inside of him, the one he had grown accustomed to.

"That's a lot of love for you Harry," she teased with a smile.

Harry pressed his lips to her. Only pressed them against her mouth, didn't go any further into any kissing. It was almost as if he was trying to seal what he had just told her. He retreated in one swift motion.

"You know," he said. "You're supposed to say I love you too!" he exclaimed, pretending to be outraged.

"I know," she said, the smile she had just teased him with still right in place.

Harry leaned back against his chair, folded his arms in front of his chest and looked up at her expectantly. She said nothing.

"Well?" he asked.

"Well what?" she asked back, trying hard and failing terribly to.

"Agent Granger," he said, actually succeeding in keeping his face straight. "You SO asked for it!"

He hadn't finished speaking the last sentence, when he picked her from her chair and started to carry her into the bedroom.

"Harry!" she said, laughing. "We've got food!"

"We'll use a reheating charm, then!" he said as he reached the bed and lowered her to it. Lowering himself on top of her. "You haven't even properly kissed me since I got here!"

Hermione didn't reply. Instead, she leaned into him, and slowly, brought her lips to his. Unlike when he had done it before, she opened her mouth and sighed against his mouth, asking him, silently to stop the talking and get on with the kissing.

Then the kiss became a battle of their tongues, as they quickly, and skilfully took possession of the other's mouth. In a practiced motion that was know not only familiar to both of them, but that had became the source of strength with which they lived their lives. This was what Harry knew he was living for. This was why he didn't feel guilty, of the burning feeling that he felt for her. Why he didn't feel guilty of deceiving his wife.

Because, only there, with her in his arms, with her passion, her frenzy and her hunger matching his; he was his true self. He was home!

*~*~*~*~*

"_All that dreaming and missing of you without having you_

_All that inventing you_

_All that crazy searching through the streets, without finding you_

_And then we went, on a sudden impulse_

_In a desperate moment_

_Confusing love with companionship_

_And the idiotic fear of being old and lonely_

_And we chose with the head_

_What was the heart's_

_And it's not about them_

_It's about time _

_For making me face you…_

_Late"_

_~Ricardo Arjona_

Hermione sighed.

It was times like this when she felt truly and honestly stupid.

She had always been so logical, she had always had such an ability to put two and two together, that she couldn't help but feel stupid when it came to *_it*._

How could she live with it, for more than a decade, and never realise it was there?

Where had all her logic gone? Why hadn't her mind put two and two together like it always did?

Didn't she have more than an ability to do that?

She sighed. She wished she could stop recriminating herself. But it was a never ending cycle. It wasn't as if one could carefully plan that kind of events; but she simply couldn't help but allow her bossy nature to take over sometimes.

Because, truth to be told, she wished it wasn't like it was.

She stared at her left hand, and unconsciously, started to roll her rings with her thumb. She felt bad when she looked down at her hand and wished those rings weren't there. She felt like she was betraying a part of herself. That part of her that had created a bond with a promise she had once made. And that part of her, ached with guilt when she actively failed her promise.

There was a cold breeze blowing across the unknown city, though the weather itself wasn't as cold as it had been the morning before. The breeze hit her face, and she enjoyed it as it blew her hair away from her face.

She sighed.

She was in the balcony of their room, and she had wrapped around herself one of the two robes from the bathroom. She had just heard Harry wake up. He straightened when he felt the empty space on the other side of the bed. He had reached for his glasses and scanned the space for her.

She heard him sigh and throw himself on the bed again. Then he laid down for a while, simply staring at the ceiling as he liked to do when he woke up. He fumbled around the bed for a while, as he usually did. Then, Hermione heard him get up and walk to the bathroom. She heard him as he walked to the living room, and when he stepped back into the bedroom, he was holding a mug with tea, just like the one she was now holding, and which, she wondered vaguely, why she had filled in the first place, since she hadn't even touched it.

He leaned against the glass door, and looked at her. She was facing the city; she couldn't see him looking at her, but she could feel his eyes on her.

"What's the matter?" he asked softly. Hermione feared she would find it impossible to speak past the knot in her throat. If it had been Ron who'd ask her what was happening, she would have said 'nothing'. Ron would have asked if she was sure, and when she'd said she was, he'd shrug it off and go do something else.

But with a stab of pain in her chest, she thought that this was Harry! And Harry _knew_. And she knew, for the life of her that she couldn't lie to Harry.

"Hermione," he said in a questioning tone.

"Today…" She started to whisper. She turned her head slightly, fixing her gaze on the rings in her left hand again. "Today…" suddenly, She got choked up; a powerful impossibility to speak had overcome her throat.

"Today is one year," Harry whispered from behind her.

Hermione felt as her eyes started to water, and how, slowly, the tears clouded her vision. She could catch, through the blurriness, the glimmering of her engagement ring in the sunlight. She felt the stab of guilt again.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she realised that she had been feeling those stabs of guilt for a year.

"Has it really been a year, Harry?"

He didn't respond. He didn't need to, it hadn't been a question. She didn't need an answer.

She turned her body to face Harry, fighting back the tears as she met the sad expression that possessed his features.

He met her gaze. The grass green that his eyes took on after he had just woke up, met the teary golden brown that her eyes adopted when she cried.

"You know I wish it weren't like this," he said, his words punctuated with the sadness she saw in his face.

Hermione was suddenly struck by a thought that made her widen her eyes and cover her mouth with her free hands, dropping the mug on the floor, and provoking it to break in pieces and cause a piercing noise.

"Harry," she cried horrified behind her hands.

Harry didn't wait for her to say anything else. He threw his own mug to the floor, paying no attention to whether or not it broke. He closed the distance between them in two large steps and wrapped her in a hug.

Hermione cried against Harry's shoulder, clinging to him, digging her fingernails on his back. Harry held her by the waist, and pulled her ever closer every time she let out a sob.

"Harry," she sobbed against his neck, feeling a crashed emotion between guilt and shame and the comfort of Harry's hug.

"I don't care how!" She cried. "I only care that it happened!"

Harry brought a hand to her hair and began to run his fingers through it in a slow, soothing motion. Hermione wept against Harry's embrace, trying to allow Harry's touch to soothe her. Harry didn't say anything; he just caressed her lower back, and ran his fingers through her hair.

"What kind of a woman am I, Harry?" She cried in an agonized howl.

"Hermione-" he started, but Hermione cut him off, disentangling herself from his embrace and directing her tormented stare at his eyes.

"What kind, Harry? To continue to deceive my husband like this? AND TO LOVE YOU LIKE I DO?"

Hermione hid her face in her hands, shaking her head slightly. She didn't mean to bring all this insecurities and flaws of her that tormented her into this trip. They didn't even have to work! This was supposed to be a holiday for them. Why couldn't she stop recriminating herself?

She turned her back on Harry and faced the city again. Her hands were shaking, and she had to press them hard against her face so that they would stop.

A few moments of silence went by. She didn't want to look up and see Harry. Because she knew that Harry was only waiting to give her an answer. She dreaded what he would say to her. She didn't want to face the fear that maybe she was indeed horrible and cruel, and that this whole thing had been a total mistake.

But, the next thing Hermione knew, Harry's arms were wrapping her from behind, and Harry was leaning his face against her neck. She felt Harry's hands grabbing hers, and taking them away from her face, dragging them down until she'd laid them down on top of his, as his arms tightened around her waist, and he breathed against her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

"What kind of a man am I, then?" he whispered, his words vibrating in her neck. "If I love you just like you love me?"

Hermione relaxed against Harry's chest and slowly, she wrapped her arms around his.

"There's nothing like me and you," he whispered close to her ear. "We can't help that! You and me, is older than this." As he said this, he wrapped his left hand on hers, and their rings clinked against each other.

Hermione sighed, leaning her head against Harry's shoulder, and feeling her eyes water again.

"Why didn't we realise it before?" she said, so softly, that she wondered if Harry had heard her. "Why is it coming to us at the cost of them?"

"I don't know," he sighed, kissing the top of her head. "I wish we hadn't needed to be imprisoned to realise what we had left outside."

"Harry, do you ever wonder what would have happened, if we…-" suddenly, Hermione found herself at a loss for words. Harry caught on, however.

"If we hadn't been married?" he completed. She nodded. "No… maybe, we…-"

"Needed the prison to appreciate the freedom?" she finished for him.

"I wish it were otherwise, but yes," he said, pressing her body closer against his.

Hermione knew he was right. She couldn't explain her earlier outburst. She knew those came sometimes, during the times when she felt the weight of her betrayal. But most of the time, those outbursts came in the moments when she felt careless and free of loving Harry.

When her feelings crashed against her thoughts. When she thought it had to be wrong to love Harry, but when she felt it was right to love him. And then the rings would remind her that, however right it felt for her… it couldn't be right for Ron.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked her.

Hermione debated the thought for a moment. Her outburst had gone. Harry knew of those outburst, he had his own sometimes, and now he wanted to make sure she didn't need to take anything else out.

She didn't.

"I am," she said, raising her hand to caress Harry's face. "I'm sorry I ruined the first morning of our trip,"

"Don't be sorry," he said, turning her to see her face. "You haven't ruined anything!"

"Harry, I just had an emotional breakdown!" she said.

"Hermione," he said. "This is what makes us, _us!_ We face each other and we're not afraid to be ourselves… this is… you're my safe place, where I can be me! You… you…-"

"You're my home!" she whispered.

Harry nodded slowly, taking a long blink as he did so. He touched her temple with the back of his hand, moving it up and down, and taking in the moment, Hermione had an idea. Her eyes widened and she looked up and Harry for a moment, then placed her hand on top of his. Their rings clinked again. She knew it may not mean something at all, but this week had to be perfect and if that was what it was going to take, so be it!

Hermione let go of Harry and ran into the room.

"What just happened in your mind?" he asked after her.

"Just a moment," she said. She opened her the handbag her mother had given heron her twentieth birthday, and which she always took on travels. She searched inside of it, it had to be there, she had never used it! She had never found use for it, but she had kept it within the bag as she received it.

There it was!

She pulled out a small velvet pouch, with a thin ribbon that closed it. She smiled at it. It was it!

"What's that?" Harry asked as he reached her.

"Is just what we need," she said, raising up and looking at Harry. She took his hand in hers and once again, their rings clinked. "This week, Harry, we are going to see like we did before we became imprisoned."

Harry gave her a puzzled look. Then, he looked from her to the small pouch in her hand, and when he looked at her again, there was the understanding she had been waiting for.

"You're brilliant!" he said, a wide smile on his face. He moved their hands so that he was the one holding hers, and ever so slowly, took away her engagement and wedding rings. Then, just as slowly he brought her hand to his mouth and placed a long lingering kiss upon the back of it.

He freed her hand, and she understood his gesture. Just as slowly as he had done, she took his ring from his finger. Then, she placed his hand against her temple. And now she felt it!

The rightness of it was there! Their hands were naked in the company of the other. They didn't need to wear any masks when they were alone. Their hands were naked… as were their souls. She smiled at Harry, and he returned her smile. She kissed his palm as he withdrew his hand, and took the pouch from her.

"These rings," he said as he placed her rings on the pouch. "Belong to the other Harry and the other Hermione." He held the pouch open for her, and she dropped Harry's ring inside of it, hearing as they made the last clink of that trip.

"This week," Harry said, closing the small bag. "We're just Harry and Hermione."


	2. Chronicle of an Inevitable Surrender I

_**Disclaimer:**_ Obviously, I do not own Harry Potter.

If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't need to write this story, since Harry and Hermione would have already been together.

_**After The End**_

**Chapter Two: Chronicle of an Inevitable Surrender - Vol. I: Love Is Blindness**

**Author's Note: **This chapter and the following one contain a major section of flashbacks. I hope it isn't confusing.

"_Love is blindness_

_I don't want to see_

_Won't you wrap the night_

_Around me_

_Oh my heart_

_Love is blindness_

_In a parked car_

_In a crowded street_

_You see your love_

_Made complete_

_Thread is ripping_

_The knot is slipping_

_Love is blindness_

_A little death_

_Without mourning_

_No call_

_And no warning"_

_~U2_

Hermione woke up when she turned around in the bed and felt the sunlight shining right into her closed eyelids. She opened her eyes and blinked at least three times before she turned around and met Harry's gaze, looking at her from one of the living room chairs.

He had the chair against the corner of the room, and, somehow, Hermione knew Harry had dragged the chair over there. He hadn't levitated it, or summoned it; he had dragged her, and she could clearly picture Harry doing so, and sitting on it, watching her sleeping form until she woke up.

She smiled at him and he smiled back, though his eyes had already been smiling. He was wearing the bottom of his pyjamas, and was sitting crossed legs with his back against the back of the chair; his left hand was holding a mug with his usual morning tea.

"Hey!" she mumbled sleepily, hugging her pillow under her head.

"Hey yourself!" he whispered lovingly.

Hermione had noticed that Harry had a certain way to address her that was simply special and unique. And, as it was, that wasn't a new thing. Harry had always been special whenever it came to her. She knew it, she had always known it, and, she simply couldn't believe that she would have self induced the blindness with which she used to relate to that.

"So, today's the day," she said, turning, to lie on her back and look up at the ceiling.

"Don't say it," he quickly said. "Let's not say it,"

She looked at him, a sad but understanding smile on her face.

"We'll see each other tomorrow… it's Charlie's birthday," she said. "And we'll see each other on Monday at work,"

"Still," he said. "Don't say it,"

"Harry," she said. "You know that just because we don't think about –"

"It's not about not thinking about it," he interrupted her, as he ran his right hand across his messy hair. He sighed then he gave her a look. One of his Harry looks… this one, was a pleading Harry look. "It's about forgetting that today only has eight hours for you and me,"

Hermione heaved a sigh. She took the covers from her, and sat on the bed. She stopped to stare at Harry before she got up and walked to him. She sat on his lap and he curled his arms around her waist, placing his mug on the floor.

She sneaked his arms around him and ran her fingers up and down his naked back. She touched her forehead to his, and they remained silent for several moments, allowing the moment to linger with them.

Harry had spoken words that meant a whole world to them. Harry had spoken the words that echoed, something that he had told her one year ago. And, those words had been the key with which they had unlocked the door to their prisons.

Before she engaged herself in a lengthy travel back through memory lane, Hermione broke the silence with a quiet, loving whisper.

"I'd like that."

~*~*~

One Year Before

~*~*~

"_How long before I get in?_

_Before it starts, before I begin?_

_How long before you decide?_

_Before I know what it feels like?"_

_~Coldplay_

"_Something is about to give_

_I can feel it coming_

_I think I know what it is"_

_~U2_

Hermione sighed with an effort as she stepped out into the backyard of The Burrow. It was as if a heavy burden had been walking the day on her shoulders. Which, probably, she thought it had.

Harry was in the backyard, chasing kids around. Bill and Fleur had two, Jacques and Claire. Charlie had married a Polish witch he had met in Rumania, and they also had two kids, Andros and Melinda. With ages from 7 to 4, all four kids had a liking for Harry that suited him strangely well. It was oddly peculiar of Harry, but he was totally natural when it came to kids. They loved him and he loved them. It was as if he had a special gene for fatherhood, but Hermione had never considered why he didn't have his own children.

Just like she had never stopped to consider why she didn't have hers. It was not that she didn't like them, she liked kids… it was just that she didn't feel the time was right. She sighed. That was what had started the heaviness of her day.

She sat on one of the chairs in the porch, and in a dream like state, watched Harry play around with the kids. She didn't notice how Harry fixed his eyes on her, or how he frowned after he studied her face for a moment. She woke up from her reverie as Harry was knocked down into the floor by a pair of running kids.

The kids gushed that Harry had lost the game, and that he now had to sit and wait until it was over… Harry only argued with them for a couple of sentences. He then looked at Hermione and caught her looking at him. He smiled at her and then turned to the children, saying that he was accepting defeat. He walked to the porch and sat on the chair next to Hermione's.

He was smiling, and Hermione made an effort to smile up at him before he sat. She should have known better, but she still tried.

"It seems like you lost a child's game over there," she said in a whisper that echoed her effort to seem light and fine.

"I kinda did," he answered smiling. "Four to one, you can't argue." As he sat, Harry determinedly looked at her. She could feel his eyes on her, even though she wasn't looking at him. She knew it was worthless to keep pretending, so she sighed again and looked at Harry.

He had stopped smiling, but as he met her gaze, he gave her a shy, understanding smile. Hermione liked that smile, it was always comforting, and, if she had to be honest, it was with that smile that Harry told her what was coming.

"What's going on with you?" he asked in a soft, calm voice that vibrated through him and reached Hermione when he covered her hand with his.

Hermione was sure that it would be useless to pretend nothing was happening. This was Harry, there was no way around it, he knew something was not right with her, and, there would be no point in lying to him, because, she knew, he had a very good idea where her heavy sighs were coming from.

She looked at the floor for a moment, gathering her strengths, and summoning all of her Gryffindor courage. She didn't know why it seemed difficult to her to speak about it, but, she thought that it had something to do with that terrible sense of wrongness that she had felt since the argument started. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, and when she opened them, she raised her eyes at Harry and sighed once again.

"Ron and I had an argument this morning," she said. She fixed her eyes on Harry's. It only took a moment for Harry to nod his head slightly, and for Hermione to know that he had understood. By argument, Hermione meant a real one. Not stupid, senseless and pointless bickering that every other day brought for her and Ron.

"What happened?" he whispered.

Hermione took a deep breath before she went on. She had no idea how to approach the subject, so, she went straight at it.

"This morning, Ron told me he wants children."

Harry gasped. Years later, Hermione would never be able to explain why, but back then, she understood Harry's gasp. She understood why he had suddenly taken a gulp of air and why he hadn't been able to release it until several moments later. Back then, she had been grateful for Harry's gasp, and she looked into his eyes and, without uttering a word, she told him so.

In his eyes, Hermione saw the understanding. She didn't need to say another word. He understood that her answer to Ron had been no. Harry understood why she had said no, he understood what it was that it seemed so wrong to her about having a child with Ron. He understood why she couldn't bring herself to push that aside and just give it a try. He understood why she simply couldn't fill the holes that Ron's proposition had opened. And he understood, that, what troubled her the most, was that she was afraid that those holes, hadn't been opened just that morning, but had been there for longer than she could be able to count.

"There is nothing gone," she said. It was almost as if they had just had a long conversation in which she had told him all that she and Ron had told each other. But they hadn't, and yet, it all made sense, and Harry understood. "But there's something wrong,"

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and lowered his head. He stared at the floor, then looked back at her, raising his head up straight.

"There is nothing gone," he whispered. "But there's something missing,"

As Harry uttered those words, Hermione knew that he was no longer talking about she and Ron. Harry was talking about himself and Ginny. She hadn't asked the question, but Harry knew better. He gave her an answer for a question that she hadn't asked, but which brought comfort into her anxious, questioning self of that afternoon.

She looked up at Harry, her eyes bearing the sign of the comfort that his words had given her. She was looking at Harry, their eyes communicating in that language that had been their own since before she could remember it to be. And it was then when she first saw it.

_It._

And it was staring intently at her from Harry's eyes. It couldn't be, but it was.

She blinked, in an effort to spot more keenly what she had just saw, as if she could really see it with her eyeballs. But she knew it was there, and it wasn't there because her eyes had spotted it, it was there because she felt it! It was there, because, for the first time in many years, she had opened up the door that she locked away with a key she had hidden under books and cleverness.

It was there, coming from Harry… as if Harry himself had spared the key a look and tried to take a peek at what they had both imprisoned.

Harry was looking at her as if he could see it too… and Hermione saw, for an eternal second, that Harry was seeing it too. And she knew it in the desperate, apologetic, comforting, reassuring look that he gave her.

She almost opened her mouth to say something, though a thousand thoughts were in her mind and she hadn't decided which one to act upon.

"Hey you guys!" Fred shouted, poking his head into the porch from the door. "We're gonna cut the cake! What're you waiting for?"

When Hermione jumped out of her reverie, she started to tell herself that it couldn't be true, that it had been a delusion of her troubled mind. She hadn't been very coherent that day; that had been it.

She didn't realise when Harry let go of her hand, and she ignored the confused look in his eyes. She barely registered how she got up and told Harry to go in, she registered, as a vague and swift memory, going inside the house. She never remembered what Charlie's birthday cake was made of, or what colour it had.

Monday morning came and she remembered very few of the sleepless night she spent in her bed, looking sideways at Ron every now and then.

But she couldn't forget _it._

Hermione got up and showered and ate breakfast and talked into barely civil terms to Ron. She dressed and brushed her teeth and waved goodbye to Ron as he told her he was leaving. She walked to the parking downstairs and drove to work. And she couldn't remember having done any of those things when she opened the door to her and Harry's office.

A piece of parchment was resting on her desk, on top of a messed pile of books and papers.

"_Went to the Hospital. Baby's coming. Come Quickly._

_Love,_

_Helen and Neville"_

She hadn't finished reading the note, when a smile spread on her lips. Authentic happiness swelled within her. And, for a moment, the *_it*_ that she hadn't been able to get away from her mind; was pushed aside by the happy news.

Before her determination could settle for that thought, she heard the door behind her open and close; and she knew Harry was now in the room.

She didn't allow her determination to hesitate. She turned on her toes and looked at Harry. It was obvious to her that he, just like she did, had not slept a minute. It was clear that he hadn't been able to push the thought away, and that when he looked at his wife; he had felt the same strange stab she had felt when looking at Ron.

But they had to make room for something else for a moment.

She looked at him, and, silently, told him, with her eyes, that it was going to have to wait. It was not the time. And fact is, that she didn't wait for a reply, because, fact was, that she was afraid of listening to a reply she hadn't anticipated, or, even worst, the one she had, even at her own back, been secretly expecting.

As soon as she stated her determination with her eyes, she gave him a wide smile.

"What?" he asked. In his voice Hermione heard the same fear that was in her heart, and wondered, for a moment, how come they were both Gryffindors, if they were giving into fear instead of facing it. But again, she determined to push _*it*_ away. And, forcing herself to follow the plan, she beamed at him.

"Come!" she said, walking forward and taking his hand. "Helen and Neville are having a baby!"

As if that explained it all, she dragged him to the parking, and opened her car, with the keys that she didn't get the chance to pocket. Harry mechanically sat in the passenger's seat at her left; and it wasn't until she was driving into the packed streets of London, that she was hit by what was happening. They were heading to the muggle hospital were Helen was going to give birth!

Helen was Hermione's cousin. Though they had never been close, after Hermione's dad died of a heart attack, five years earlier, Helen had become a strong and steady support for Hermione and her mum.

When the war had ended, both Harry and Hermione had joined the Auror Training Program. One year into their training; their current employer had contacted them.

They worked in the Security and Intelligence Agency of the International Confederation of Wizards. And they had been assigned as partners since they finished training. They were a part of the Division that was in charge of Infiltration and Stealth. Their work had them, sometimes, on various places of the world, most of the time, working infiltrated. Sometimes, they went all the way, from infiltrating to catching up the bad guys. Some others, it was their job to recognise the scenario and crafted a plan that was later followed by Aurors from the Ministry.

That meant that they both had constant communication with the Aurors. Their usual contact, was Neville. Neville had entered the training the same year Harry and Hermione had. He made their perfect counterpart at the Aurors office.

And, it was because they worked so close together, that Neville had met Helen.

Hermione honestly had to admit that sometimes, she was very jealous of Helen and Neville. She had always known they had something special, quite unique about them. Something that, beyond different, seemed almost seamless. Not because it was flawless, because it wasn't… but because, in the perfect motion in which their relationship progressed, they seemed to complete each other. And Hermione, if she was true to herself, had to admit that she had never had that.

And that morning, as she walked inside the hospital room, she felt it.

Neville and Helen were sitting in the bed, a small bundle of blankets in Helen's arms.

"Hey!" She greeted happily.

"Sorry," Neville said, looking at them, a smile in his face. "He didn't wait for anyone,"

"Harry, Hermione," Helen said. "Meet Frank. Frank, these are Harry and Hermione, say hi!"

Hermione appreciated the sight in front of her, and she was able to let go of the shield that had been covering her. She felt the emptiness that she had been pretending to overlook, but that had always been within her. She allowed her mask to fall off of her face, and she saw herself there.

As if she was an observer within someone's memory; she looked at herself standing there in the hospital room. She saw her face as she smiled at Helen and as she talked to them both, apologising for being late. And, looking from a distance, she understood finally and clearly, why she had been jealous of Helen and Neville.

She understood how they were both just Helen and Neville. They didn't hold back, they didn't keep things shut… they didn't measure every little bit that they gave the other, and they didn't walk cautiously around each other, preventing themselves from falling into the unknown.

And she saw, with a piercing pain inside of her, everything she had been trying so hard not to be.

Her eyes watered, and her pulse quickened. She was just about to run from the room and throw her shield and armour out the window, when the inevitable happened.

Suddenly and accurately, she felt a strong and familiar hand on her shoulder.

And, if she thought the world had just crumbled… she had been wrong. For it was right there and then, as she felt Harry's hand on her shoulder that, for the first time since she was 16, she saw clearly.

And this one time, she couldn't deny it even if she wanted to.

It was there, she felt it, coming out of Harry, and vibrating in the hand that he had on her shoulder. It was there, burning inside of her, like a fire. It was there, just as real as it had always been. As real as the room in which they were in. As real as Helen, Neville and Frank in front of her, as clear as the fact that she had purposely blinded her sight.

It was as if time had stopped running on its normal pace, and had suddenly gone slower. And she saw the world around her crush into pieces and rebuild itself into a new one she hadn't seen before. She saw how her mask came off, and she saw, with shooting pain, how the last eight years of her life had been a total and complete lie.

In seconds, Hermione saw her life change in a blur of undefined images that she recognised because she realised that unconsciously, she always had. She felt a blinding desperation to unravel those images and find an answer that would tell her for how long had she been living on the lie that had been eating her alive without her even noticing. _NOTE TO GIL: I'm unsure about this sentence; I __**like**__ the feeling of it, but it's too long and feels repetitive when you're reading it. ???_

And the terrifying question popped into her mind in one, impossibly long second. _Why?_

It rang through her mind in a permanent echo that didn't stop when she blinked and realised that time hadn't stopped running on its normal pace. She didn't get the time to wonder where had time gone off to; or how did she stood there in the room as she realised all of that; or how could her mind understand such a rushed flow of realisations, if they had only happened in very few seconds.

Neville was pulling at her arm, asking her to go outside the room with him. She realised that Harry's hand was no longer on her shoulder as they exited the room, Harry behind her and Neville.

"Hermione," Neville said, closing the door as they stepped into the corridor.

Hermione blinked a few times, consciously aware of the fact that she felt that disturbing, disorienting feeling of being almost drunk; right when one can command the body and feel it move, but wonders if it's all really happening.

She tried to focus on Neville, and pay attention to what he was saying, which was hard, since Neville didn't really appear to be there, and his voice sounded distant to her ears. Hermione sent her mind a conscious order, asking it to focus on Neville, but she felt as if her entire self was working in slow motion.

"I, need to go home," Neville was saying. "Need to bring Helen a few things she forgot home, and –"

"I'll stay with her," Hermione said, blinking intentionally hard to settle her mind.

"I won't take long," Neville hurried to say. "I know you guys have to be in Paris this evening,"

"Oh… I… oh!" Hermione muttered, running her fingers through her hair, sighing. She had forgotten about Paris completely. She hadn't packed and her office had a ton of paperwork waiting to get done before she'd leave. "It... Will be alright, I'll stay. We have a few hours left, and it's not like you'll be back until tomorrow, right?"

Neville stepped forward and kissed her cheek.

"You're an angel, you know that?" He then turned to look at Harry, and it wasn't until then that Hermione considered that Harry was having the same strange feeling that she was trying to fight. As soon as she took into account that Harry, standing behind her, had had the same realisation that she had endured, the funny feeling of being unconscious left her.

"She's an angel!" Neville told Harry. "I won't take long!" he said, opening the door again and going in. "I'll tell Helen,"

Neville didn't realise what he had just done. But he had left the crouching tiger and the hidden dragon to face each other, with nothing standing between them to crouch or hide under.

Hermione was looking at the floor, as if it was very interesting to analyse where her shoes met with the floor. She sighed a very deep sigh that felt as if it had been trapped a lifetime, which it probably had been. She left her head fall forward and closed her eyes, as she tried to catch her breath. When had it started to be so hard to breathe? When had her hands started to sweat? When had she stopped feeling her legs?

When did she start to feel as if she had just woken up from a very long sleep?

The silence was hanging between them, holding onto the last bits of time it had left. Though Hermione wished to end it, she didn't. For she felt, in the silence, that eventually it was going to be ended, because finally, they weren't going to run anymore. That road had ended.

And, if she had any doubts, they were swept away when Harry took matters into his hands and finished with the silence.

"Where do we go from here?" he asked in one steady, firm voice.

Hermione raised her head, opening her eyes as she did so. She turned slowly, to look at Harry behind her. First, she turned her head, and then her torso, moving her feet until she was almost there.

She saw there, in Harry's eyes, that they didn't need to speak about anything. He was quietly asking her to reassure him.

_I know you felt it._

And Hermione found her own reassurance in the pleading in Harry's eyes. So she gave him hers with her own eyes.

_I did. I know you did too._

_What now?_

Harry didn't move, or say anything. But his eyes gave her a smile that wasn't on his face.

Hermione consciously placed a smile of her own in her eyes and gave it to Harry.

Something came between them for a second. Something that Hermione could almost see, and that she knew well, even if she had never acknowledged it before.

It was called The Line.

And, it surprised her that she hadn't ever recognised its presence there, not even when they had chosen to move its position and draw it in a spot that separated them even further.

She wished to erase it, and never see it again. She felt like crying and pulling at her hair and laughing. She looked at Harry and she saw the same need in his eyes. She was going to step forwards and sod the line.

"Hermione!"

Hermione jumped at the sound of her name, being spoken at her back. Her eyes opened wide at Harry and she didn't say a word.

"You are the best!" Neville said, placing his hand on her shoulder. Hermione caught her breath, unbeknownst to her that she hadn't been breathing "You're staying?" He asked Harry.

Harry looked at her, and she knew he had to leave. He had to go and do both their paperwork so she could stay and then go to Paris. She gave him a quiet and subtle nod.

"I'm going," he said to Neville. "Have stuff to get ready." He now turned his attention to her. He bent and kissed her temple, his cheek lingering against hers as he whispered in her ear.

"I'll see you in Paris," he said.

"Okay," she whispered back in an almost inaudible voice.

Harry straightened up and looked at Neville. Neville smiled at Hermione as he walked down the corridor. Harry looked at her and his eyes remained on her until Neville was almost turning right towards the exit. Then, he turned around and sped up after Neville. He went round the right corner and she didn't see him anymore.

Hermione took a deep breath and opened the door. Inside, a nurse was taking Frank out of the room. She smiled at Hermione and went out of the door. Hermione looked at Helen as she closed the door that she held open until the nurse went out.

Helen smiled at her, and it was as if suddenly, all her defences would have gone down. Her hands began to shake, and she couldn't feel her legs.

She thought that this was Helen, and she had just had a baby, and she, Hermione, couldn't go freaking her out, she had a baby hours ago!

_Calm yourself,_ she told herself. _You can't freak Helen out just because you're freaked out. Get a grip Hermione!_

"What are you waiting for?" Helen said in a steady voice, her smile imperturbable.

"For what?" Hermione asked, slightly taken aback. Her eyes wide and her thoughts suddenly stopped.

"Cast a Silencing Charm and then tell me what happens to you," she answered imperiously.

"Helen, I-"

"Hermione I just had a baby!" she said, near the edge of irritation. "I know something is going on with you, and I know it's a big thing, trust me, I wouldn't be asking you if I couldn't tell it wasn't."

Hermione's lower lip trembled. She should have known better. Taking a deep breath, she took out her wand and cast the Silencing charm without speaking. She turned to Helen, but she didn't know where to start. What was really going on with her? Where did it all start?

"Are you going to tell me what happened to you, or do I have to guess?" Helen said, raising one eyebrow.

"I don't know what it's…-" she cut off. She had all the intention to talk to Helen, but, once again, she didn't know where to start.

"Hermione what-"

"How do you say?" Hermione interrupted Helen. She didn't know where to start? So be it. "How do you say, I've been fooling myself into a delusion that has ruled my life for eight years?"

Helen frowned, clearly puzzled.

"What happens with you?"

Hermione felt a tear roll down her cheek. Emotion overtook her and she tried hard to bite it back, feeling how the effort to keep herself from breaking down right there, became a burden, that felt much too heavy.

She directed her eyes right at Helen, who was expectantly waiting for her to speak. She knew she was going to kill her, but she couldn't fight it back, and the words were out before she knew it.

"I'm in love with Harry!" she said as the tears began to roll down her cheeks. Much too suddenly, she only saw the outline of Helen and the bed and the window behind it. She blinked as the words she had just spoken hit her. "Oh God! Helen… I just realised!"

Her hands went to her head, and she pressed her palms against her temples, as if afraid her head was going to fall to the floor. She ran her fingers up and through her hair, pulling it down with her hands.

"Hermione," Helen said in an anguished whisper.

Hermione tried to look at her, but her eyes were full of tears and she couldn't find her face in the blur. She realised her hands were on top of her chest, her fingers curling as if she could grab the heart that was speeding up within, and where she felt a sharp pain.

"Helen," Hermione mouthed as she tried to breathe, completely unable to stop the tears that she felt she was drowning in. "I can't breathe! Helen! I can't breathe! Oh God!"

She let go of it completely. She started sobbing, one hand on top of her chest, still trying to grab her heart from the outside, the other covering her mouth as if to quiet the sobs.

She walked unconsciously over to Helen's bed, not completely aware of where she was going. She leaned against the footboard of the bed.

"Hermione!" Helen was crying at her in a tortured voice. She extended her arms and Hermione leaned into her embrace.

"God!" She sobbed against Helen. "No! God! Helen… Why? What happened to us?"

Hermione didn't expect Helen to answer any of that to her, but she felt a pivotal need to cry out the questions that were eating her since the afternoon of the past day.

She wrapped her arms around Helen, forgetting the bit about not wanting to freak her out. Hermione needed to cry her heart out, shattering sobs coming out of her throat, and she simply couldn't do a thing to keep them inside.

Helen was stroking her back softly up and down, murmuring nothings in her ear, trying to soothe her, but Hermione couldn't stop. She felt a pressing ache in her chest, and a horrendous swelling in her lungs, as if air couldn't reach her lungs properly, which, she thought was probably happening.

"Hermione please!" Helen shrieked. "You're going to hyperventilate!"

Hermione tried desperately to take a breath, but she couldn't stop bawling. She closed her eyes and made up her mind. She opened her mouth and took a deep breath.

She separated from Helen and sat on the edge of her bed. She stopped sobbing, but her eyes were still filled with tears, and those tears still rolled down her cheeks.

"Helen…" she started, her eyes were staring past Helen and lost on the window at her back. "I don't understand… what, what happened?" she asked in a whisper, again, not expecting an answer. "Why didn't we… see?"

"I…" Helen started. Something occurred to Hermione and she focused on Helen.

"Did you know?" she asked Helen, her eyes wide. Helen said nothing, she stared at Hermione. "Helen, tell me!"

"I always wondered…" she said, sighing. "Why it… it wasn't you and Harry in the end?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but nothing came out of it. She actually had nothing to say, she realised she had opened her mouth in disbelief. It seemed unreal that someone would have thought about she and Harry, and that she, Hermione, hadn't.

She closed her mouth and lowered her head, staring at the sheets in Helen's bed.

"Go on," she whispered.

Helen placed her hand on top of Hermione's. She sighed before she spoke.

"It's just…" she hesitated, seemingly, trying to find the right words. "It always appeared to me as if you and Harry… well, had something special… something that you and Ron never… something like me and Neville!"

Hermione saw her vision cloud again. Helen went on.

"And… you were always there… and, Neville has told me… all the stuff you two did, and it made sense… and I could never explain it… why, why would Harry rescue you from that troll if you weren't even friends?" She finished, looking up at Hermione expectantly. But Hermione wasn't paying attention anymore.

Helen's words had hit something in her. They had triggered a memory to play itself inside Hermione's mind, like a movie. And, suddenly, completely out of nowhere, she remembered. Where, when and how the lie had started.

"Hermione?"

"I remember…" she whispered, again, feeling the difficult to breathe. "Helen I remember why… and when and where… and how," the tears were rolling again, and she knew that soon, she was going to be sobbing.

"What?" Helen whispered.

"Everything you said…" Hermione whispered absently, as if she had taken Veritaserum. "You're right… it makes sense… but I remember," she held back a sob as the memory replayed in her mind. "I remember the day we thought we could let it die,"

Hermione got up and walked to the wall on the right of Helen's bed. She did remember, with excruciating detail, she did.

She felt the sobs attempting to overtake her again, but she had to let it all out.

"Summer," she whispered, again in the absent voice that sounded hollow, even to herself. "Before sixth year…" A sob escaped her and she placed her palm against the wall for support. "We were at The Burrow… and he told me."

"What?"

"And we let it come between us."

"Hermione what-"

"He looked at me…" Hermione couldn't believe she had really stopped thinking about that one, crucial and agonizing moment of detour. She wept again, in the same helpless way in which she had done moments ago.

"He told me about it and he looked at me… and, I… I… he didn't say anything, but I knew! I knew he needed it. And, I… agreed!... I… didn't say a word,"

"Can you please explain-"

"Voldemort," she said in a determined voice.

"Voldemort?" Helen asked, confused.

"That morning," she said, turning to Helen. She had controlled the sobbing again. "Harry told me about the prophecy. I had told myself, over and over, that… whatever it was, I was going to stay where I was… I wasn't going to let it come between us."

She turned to the wall. She sighed deeply, and again, she felt as if the sigh she was letting out had been contained within her since that morning, eight years ago.

"But he told me, and we exchanged looks…" she paused, anticipating the cry that she felt building up inside of her. "And his look… he asked me to keep it… it wasn't going to be easy, and…" the pain in her chest pierced at her, as she replayed the moment, and Harry's look. She remembered with a painfully precise detail.

"I would have done anything… Anything to help him!" Her cries echoed all around the room, and it had been a good thing that Helen had asked her to cast a Silencing charm, because her cries pierced her own ears. "And… he needed to let his mind control his feelings… I know that's how he did it!"

Hermione didn't understand how she kept talking with the pain in her chest and the tears rolling, and the lack of breath, but, she spared a moment to thank her determination as she controlled the sobbing for a moment.

"Do you see, Helen?" she whispered to the wall, wondering if Helen could listen. "He… we, cut a piece out of the picture that morning! … we… we, let it go! … so he could chase the moment, when it will be better and he… when he looked at me," A sob came out of her throat and she tried to hold it back as she remembered what she had shut behind a scar in her heart so she wouldn't remember.

"He told me he couldn't give me everything… and, we," she was openly crying again, her cries felt desperate and hopeless. "We couldn't… he couldn't… and I wanted to refuse… but I couldn't… he needed me, and he needed me behind The Line!"

Hermione leaned against the wall; her cries now overpowered her and she felt she couldn't hold herself up.

"I got a black eye that morning!" She cried helplessly, the aching memory felt like a heavy weight in her chest. "And it didn't matter that it got cleared up… because I never saw again!"

She turned to look at Helen, although, again, she couldn't really see. She knew Helen was crying. She wished it hadn't bee like that. She wished it so badly that it hurt.

"Why?" She moaned. "Why did we let it come between us? Why didn't I say anything? Why did I agree? Why? Helen!" Hermione was shouting to the room. Everything ached within her. From her throbbing throat to her shaking hands. "Why did we let it come between us? It wasn't worth it!"

She was pulling at her hair again, desperation trying hopelessly to get drained through her hands. Her hair didn't hurt as it should have, there was only the desperation, the tears streaming down her face. The unfair pain that reminded her of what they had lost. The time they had lost.

"How did we never look back?" Suddenly, Hermione remembered a series of moments, and the pain within her intensified with a strength.

"There were times…" She whispered. Then the feeling overtook her and she was speaking through her cries. "He would give me a look… and I… GOD! … I wished to act upon it! I… wished to shake it out of us… and the first time!" Hermione hid her face in her hands in a rushed manner, and then, just as quickly, uncovered her face. "The first time he left me to go face it… for the first time, I saw him leave and… I couldn't help it!"

Hermione realised she couldn't feel her legs and that her knees were bending, and she couldn't do a thing as the painful liberation flowed out of her.

"I looked at him!" She howled. "I gave him the look and asked him to reconsider before he left… I didn't say anything… I looked at him… and he…" Hermione was remembering this as she spoke, and that one, particular painful moment, stabbed her in the chest, as it had done the first time. "He said…GOD!" She yelled. She doubted she was praying, but it seemed to flow out of her naturally in the middle of her unexpected catharsis.

"He said… he said '_Don't look like that Hermione!_' Helen!" Hermione had never fainted, but she felt close to loosing all self control. She remembered the moment with a sickening accuracy. She remembered looking at Harry with wide eyes, and seeing how Harry refused to see what she was showing him in her eyes. And how he walked away, that first time; the first time she saw him leave to start it. The beginning of the end for his mission, but the end of the beginning for them.

Hermione made an effort to control her legs and walked to the bed. She sat on the edge, and then felt Helen's arms on her shoulders, embracing her from behind.

"Why did you marry him, Hermione?" She said between her own sobs.

"Helen!" Hermione said, turning around and facing Helen, who backed away a little bit. "What do you do when a man you love kneels in the middle of a street and offers you a ring?"

"You love him?" She asked, frowning.

Hermione fell silent. A warm tear was falling out of her right eye right at that moment. She had to pause to think. That, she knew, was not a good start.

"I do," she said finally. "I did… he was the guy there, telling me it'll be fine, that Harry would come back in one piece…" she looked into Helen's eyes, almost begging her to approve what she had thought. "It was never like Harry, but how do you not love that?"

"Hermione… -"

"I know!" Hermione got up from the bed again and walked to face the door. "I know it wasn't right! But… don't you see? Nothing of what we did from that day was right… it was all…" She sighed as she anticipated the word that was to come out of her mouth. "Easy."

"But Hermione," Helen insisted. "The war ended! Why didn't you go back at it then?"

Hermione closed her eyes, lowering her head. She knew the answer to what Helen had asked her. But it wasn't just painful to admit it… it was so unfair… it had been so unfair.

"Because it takes all your strength to crawl out when you've been buried alive…" She sighed as she turned around and looked at Helen. "And the bloody world suck it all out of us!"

Hermione lowered her head as silent tears fell from her eyes. The terrible realisation, and what was worst, the most rightness of it; felt horrendously heavy on her. She needed to shake it all off.

"I didn't…" Hermione tried to whisper. "Never wanted him to be anything other than who he is… but… it was so unfair on him, and on us… that I never blamed him."

The feeling of being almost over the edge of her consciousness came back, and Hermione felt dizzy at the thought that was tormenting her. She raised her head and directed her eyes to where she saw the outline of Helen.

"I would have done anything…" She said, the tears streaming down once again. "And I did… I let him undo the picture…" She sobbed, now she couldn't care less about trying to hold back. "I thought we could leave it behind! I never knew… I…" Again, her legs were betraying her and she felt herself slowly bending, and she didn't fear the fall… she knew she was grabbing at consciousness because of her determination. "I didn't stop to think it would come after us! I would have done _anything_ to help him… and…" She covered her mouth again, in a subconscious attempt to shut out what she was saying. "AND WHEN HE KISSED HER I SMILED AT HIM!"

And then she couldn't hold herself up anymore, and she was only inches from falling into the floor, when she felt a pair of strong arms around her pulling her up, supporting her against him and allowing her to lean against him and weep in his shoulder.

She had rescued him many times. She had wrapped her arms around him in a thousand metaphors and had lifted him up many times, from many different floors. She had never expected any payback from him; but right then, Hermione thanked whatever God there was for having Neville in her life.

"Why?" She cried against his shoulder. "Neville, why did we let it come between us? Why didn't we hold to it? Why it came between us? Why? It was not worth it!" she wrapped her shaking arms around his back, and poured it all out. All the desperation, all the pain, all the frustration, and he kept her wrapped in a firm hug, supporting her, in a way that reminded them of how she had supported him when they were younger, and back in the days when she and Harry were their true selves.

It was then that it hit Hermione that it simply couldn't have been any other way: Neville knew.

"You knew!" she cried. "Neville you knew! Why? You saw it as it fell between us! Why did we do it? Why didn't you make us do something?"

"Because," he whispered against her hair. He took her by her shoulders and made her look at him. "You wouldn't be looking at freedom, if you hadn't been imprisoned."

**Credits:**

The lines "_There is nothing gone, but there's something wrong"_

"_There is nothing gone, but there's something missing"_ Both come from Hanson's song _Underneath_

The line "_What do you do if a man you love kneels in the middle of the street and offers you a ring?"_ is a rephrase from a line by Carrie in _Sex and the City_.


End file.
